Read to Relish
by The Shrubbery
Summary: When an unfortunate incident causes Katniss, Gale, Peeta, Prim, and Haymitch to pop out of their book, the Hunger Games, the only way to get back in is if they read themselves back in. It would be easier if they didn't react to everything being read. Rewrite of Savoring the Book.


**This is the REWRITTEN VERSION of my earlier fanfiction, _Savouring the Book_, which definitely isn't as top-knotch as I thought it was back when I wrote in the third grade.  
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**I'm trying my best to keep all the characters in character. Please tell me if they aren't!  
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**I will keep up my first version as a reference for right now, but I will take it down later.  
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**This is set in an AU. Mockingjay does _not_ occur (which means Gale does not leave, District 12 is not bombed, etc.), but a rebellion does occur which results in Snow getting killed, Capitol being taken down, etc. Regular canon pairings (i.e. Peeta x Katniss, even though I am pro Galeniss) and there are some other events and incidents that are not canon.  
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**Please review! :D  
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* * *

The room is dark as dim lights hang from ceiling. There is an unlit light bulb in the middle of the room. There is quiet murmuring as everyone bumps into each other in the dark.

"Oh no, I did it again..."

Everyone freezes.

"Who was that?" Gale asks, whipping around to see behind him. Gale is 19, his dark hair dangling in front of his sharp gray eyes, which hung over his tall slightly crooked nose, which in turn hung over his dry lips. Katniss is to the left, looking precariously in the room they acquired, and Peeta to the right, as the latter looked at the former very protectively.

There is a moment of awkward silence before the same timid voice pops back up.

"I'm Rhea..." it murmurs. "I'm so sorry for everything..."

Rhea comes into view as the lightbulb flickers on, revealing a girl looking not much older than Prim. She has long dark locks hanging from her head and deep flickering hazel eyes staring at all of them. She is small with a tiny skeletal structure and a pretty, shy smile on her face. Cloaked in a blood-red cloak coming down to her ankle, she looked rather feral. "Hi..."

Katniss puts looks at her with cautious eyes. "Where are we, _Rhea?_" she asks.

Rhea bites her lip, looks to the ground, and looks back up. "Well...it's a bit difficult to explain...ah...in human terms, I would have to say we're in a...propelled self conserved manifestation of the demon conditional subconscious..." Rhea ducks her head, her silky hair fluttering softly.

Everyone gives her a blank stare. She fumbles for the right word before saying, "Limbo!"

The room shakes slightly, the lightbulb shaking dangerously close to Effie's head. Rhea opens her eyes very big, clenches her fists, and then musters all the strength she has. Her eyes are bulging out of her head by the time the room stops shaking.

"Who are you?" Prim says, standing up. She had fallen when the mini-earthquake-esque occurrence happened, her small figure unable to take that much of a shock. Prim, 15, had her honey blonde hair draping about her waist freely, letting it swish back and forth. Her large cerulean eyes inquires the little girl, admiring her prettiness.

"I...I thought I told you...I'm Rhea." The girl wipes a bead of sweat off her brow.

Katniss frowns and persists her line of questioning. "Yeah, but who _are_ you?"

Rhea pauses for a moment as she brushes off a little dust on her robe.

"Well, I suppose you could call me a demon," she says.

A silence follows before Katniss says, "I find that highly improbable. There's no such thing as demons."

"I certainly hope there would be, otherwise my whole life has been a sham."

Katniss shakes her head and points her index finger accusingly at Rhea. "Look, that's not the point here, _demon_," she says. "I just want to know where we are and why we're here. Then I'd like to please get back home."

"Who's not to assume that this _isn't_ your home?" Rhea asks.

Katniss purses her lips and mimics Rhea's earlier statement, "Well, I certainly hope it isn't, otherwise my whole life has been a sham."

Rhea cracks. "All right, this isn't your home, but it will soon be if you don't read." Katniss is still unconvinced, by the looks of her countenance, and Gale presses onward.

"Why and what do we read?" he asks. Rhea's pale cheeks redden as soon as he speaks which she quickly hides but turning sharply away.

"I haven't really explained your situation, yet, so it won't make a lot of sense unless I do." She takes a big breath, holds it for a little while, and exhales it. "You see, I'm a demon, but I'm one of them Lower Demons - so I have to do a lot of menial work. And since I work in the Department of Departure: Literacy, I spend most of my days reading...things out of stories." She pauses to let this soak in. "Reading things out of stories pretty much is just what it sounds like - I detach and depart a character from a world and they end up in Limbo. Here, they are kept and stored until the Department of Arrival: Literacy comes and inserts them back when they need to."

Peeta breaks in, after subtly flipping his blonde hair (which he desperately needed to cut). Rhea's eyes trail down to his strong, muscular arms and blushes when he follows her eyeline. "When would you ever need to read someone out of a story?"

"When they die," she whispers.

A silence follows, its presence drowning its inhabitants.

"Are we...are we dead?" Haymitch asks, huskily, on withdrawal from his alcohol. He looks disheveled and confused, and his pants aren't zipped up. _Damn_, he thinks to himself, _I was supposed to die drinking vodka. I only remember going to the bathroom._

Rhea shakes her head. "No, you aren't - which is a bit of a problem."

"But we're in Limbo, which means that you've read us out of the story, right?" Peeta asks. Rhea looks down, cheeks bright red, and her fingers begin playing with her hair.

"Yes," she replies curtly.

"And I'm assuming that wasn't supposed to happen?" Peeta guesses.

Rhea smiles apologetically. "You assume correctly."

"So how the heck are we supposed to get back?" Katniss bursts out. Her gray eyes looked frantic and her hands curled into fists, frustrated. "I had an important meeting with the Mayor today and I certainly think that reading some book will take a very long time."

"That won't be a problem, time is frozen in Limbo," Rhea answers reassuringly. "However, I would suggest reading as soon as possible, seeing as how you seem just a tad bit anxious." She meant the last part as facetious as possible.

As they all agree, Rhea steps into a hallway, somehow conjured up by a whip of her hand. She steps in, followed by the rest of the group, and they walk down a long, narrow corridor dimly lit by floating candles. Prim clings to Katniss as she shivers - it was a deep chill down here, not necessarily defined by cold, but an emptiness that made everything vaguely wintry.

"Why can't _you_ just read us back, Rhea?" Peeta pipes up, invading the silence.

She speaks without turning around or slowing down. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. I haven't the power, I wasn't assigned to the Departure Department." She pauses as she makes a sharp left and then speaks again. "And even if I could manage to get a unit in without managing to get demoted, that would take an incredibly long time to bind and seal all five of you back into the book successfully. The only other way to get you all back is to have you all read it yourself."

It is a while before Rhea turns right into another winding hallway and stops in front of a room.

It's sparsely furnished, a round wooden table with five chairs scooted into it. There is no light, but everyone can see quite perfectly, and it is the perfect temperament to the each of them - one of the most peculiar marvels of Limbo.

Peeta could smell the faint waft of a muffin, baking in the distance, and it was a very cozy 83 and a half degrees to him.

On the contrary, Gale felt a sharp pine wind snap against his neck, and it was a chilly 59 degrees for him.

For Katniss, she felt at home, where it was an indistinguishable mix of cheese, sweet herbs, and a whiff of her father's cologne at a comfortable temperature of 74 degrees.

To Prim, she could feel finely cut grass between her toes (was she wearing shoes? She couldn't remember) and the aromas of animals, which she found very pleasant, along with the 79 degrees she felt.

For Haymitch, he felt surrounded by the fragrance of well-brewed beer and old wine in room temperature of 74 degrees.

Rhea clears her throat softly, bringing her guests back from their imaginations. She hands Katniss a tightly bound book and ushers them into the seats.

"I tried to make the experience as positive as possible - do you like it?" Rhea asks timidly.

"Oh, yes, thank you very much," Prim replies politely, beaming a smile as she inhales the scent of a goat. Rhea nods enthusiastically, grateful that her visitors were comfortable with the set up.

"I would suggest reading. I think you will find that your mouth will not become dry even when you read for a considerable amount of time, so if you would like one person to read the whole time, they will not find the process particularly uncomfortable. Of course, you can switch if you'd like. You will also not get thirsty or hungry and your urge to use the toilet facilities should not be active, so there will be no breaks, unless, of course, you would like one. I remind you that this may be a personal account of a story, so please do not be alarmed if you hear strange occurrences that have happened to you or you have seen. Have a pleasant session, all."

And she leaves.

Katniss opens up the dusty book reluctantly and begins to enunciate, "**Chapter 1**...

* * *

**When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.**

"Well, I'm loving it already," Haymitch says sarcastically.

**My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.**

"Oh, fun. The Hunger Games," Peeta drawls, placing his chin onto his hand and looking evidently bored.

Katniss flashes him a look. "What? Kid gladiator game too uncool for you?"

He chuckles, switching hands from his chin, and looks amused to her, "Ah, well, you know. Been there, done that."

**I prop myself up on one elbow.**

"You must be clairvoyant, Peeta," little Prim giggles, pointing at his position of elbows, which are attached to his hands, tucked under his chin.

"Because, clearly, coincidences mean someone's psychic," Haymitch scoffs. "I could say that you were going to pop into this story."

**There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim,**

Haymitch smiles. "How could I have known? I must have a sixth sense."

**curled up on her side, cocooned in my mother's body, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, my mother looks younger, still worn but not so beaten-down. Prim's face is as fresh as a raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named.**

"I have a feeling I know who's personal account this is," Gale says, staring at Katniss. She gives a lop-sided grin back.

"I mean, other than the author stating to have a younger sister named Prim and the fact that I know exactly what I'm going to say next..." Katniss says.

**My mother was very beautiful once, too.**

"Or so they tell me," Katniss whispers.

** Or so they tell me.**

** Sitting at Prim's knees, guarding her, is the world's ugliest cat. Mashed-in nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower.**

"How rude!" Prim exclaims with mock disdain. "My, I never knew you felt that way, Katniss."

Katniss fakes shame and says, "We all have that dirty bit of truth inside of us somewhere."

**He hates me. Or at least distrusts me.**

"If you would give him a chance," Prim says.

Katniss purses her lips and shakes her head in a dramatic fashion. "I did, and I just didn't think it would work out. I think it would be better that we just stayed owner and pet."

Prim gasps. "Are you...are you breaking up with Buttercup?"

Katniss looks pleadingly at her little sister and cups her hands into hers. "It's not him, it's me! He doesn't deserve me, he's just too nice."

Gale rolls his eyes. "If I wanted this drama, I would've stayed home and watched Gossip Girl."

**Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. But Prim begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay.**

"I suppose this would be a good moment to say, 'I told you so'?" Prim asks eagerly.

"I suppose it would," Katniss agrees, reluctantly.

"I told you so!" she exclaims.

** My mother got rid of the vermin and he's a born mouser. Even catches the occasional rat. Sometimes, when I clean a kill, I feed Buttercup the entrails. ****He has stopped hissing at me. Entrails. No hissing. This is the closest we will ever come to love. **

Haymitch snorts.

"Better than you've ever gotten to," Katniss mutters.

**I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots.**

"Queen of the anti-climax, aren't you?" Haymitch asks.

"It's a style of writing," Katniss defends herself.

**Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers,**

"Aren't those for men?" Prim muses out loud.

Gale heaves a sigh. "Well, it doesn't really matter because she put them on, regardless of whether she is male or not."

Prim puffs up her cheeks and looks crossly at Gale. "Sheesh! Can't even think aloud these days."

** a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. Prim's gift to me on reaping day.**

**I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip outside.**

** Our part of District 12, nicknamed the Seam,**

"Funny name, isn't it?" Peeta wonders aloud. "I mean, it's not as if we sew or anything."

Surprisingly, Haymitch actually knows why. "It's called the 'Seam' because a seam can be any linear indentation or mark, such as a wrinkle or scar." He chuckles. "And the Capitol knows very well how we are their wrinkle."

**is usually crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning shift at this hour. Men and women with hunched shoulders, swollen knuckles, many who have long since stopped trying to scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of their sunken faces.**

"We sound like zombies or something," Prim says.

"Coal-covered, hard-working, uncannibalistic, still-living zombies," Gale agrees.

** But today the black cinder streets are empty. Shutters on the squat gray houses are closed. The reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in. If you can.**

"I usually do," Haymitch says.

"What a surprise," Gale says, derisively.

**Our house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow.**

"Now that I think about it," Peeta says, "we have a very uncreative names for our places."

Gale raises his eyebrows. "Well, it's not as if you're going to call it the 'Majestic Pasturage of Great Due Reverence', Peeta."

"True," he agrees, nodding his head. "But it would certainly be more original than the 'Meadow'."

**Separating the Meadow from the woods,**

"What? You don't have a nickname for that, Katniss?" Haymitch asks, nudging her in the stomach with his elbow.

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Oh yes, I do, Haymitch. I call it the Luscious Thicket of Wooden Living Inanimate Plants."

** in fact enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory, it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods — packs of wild dogs, lone cougars, bears — that used to threaten our streets. But since we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch.**

"Usually safe to touch? That's what she said!" Peeta cackles at his lame dirty joke.

Katniss kicks him in the shins under the table and gestures briefly to Prim. Prim snorts in response and waves her hand in contempt. "It's no biggie, Katniss, it's not like I didn't go through the sixth grade with stupid boys like him."

Peeta starts laughing again, before realizing Prim has insulted him, but then he shrugs his shoulders and continues to laugh.

** Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is live. Right now, it's silent as a stone.**

"I never got this expression," Prim says. "What if that stone was continually being hit by someone? Then it would be not so silent."

**Concealed by a clump of bushes, I flatten out on my belly and slide under a two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to home I almost always enter the woods here. As soon as I'm in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath of arrows from a hollow log. Electrified or not, the fence has been successful at keeping the flesh-eaters out of District 12.**

"Like cannibals," Haymitch says, staring intensely at Prim. "Cannibals...flesh eaters...humans who eat other hu -"

"I know what a cannibal is," Prim says, cutting him up. "So?"

"So...?" Haymitch edges closer to Prim, eyeing her with a deranged look. "_So..._They're going to come and -"

"-eat me?" Prim finishes for him. She pushes the middle aged man back to stare at him skeptically. "I'm not five, Haymitch. You can do better than that."

** Inside the woods they roam freely, and there are added concerns like venomous snakes, rabid animals, and no real paths to follow.**

"And cannibals!" Haymitch exclaims. "Cannibals, I say!"

** But there's also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion.**

"Hey, Katniss," Peeta says softly, attempting to comfort her. "You know what's worse than the man that gave a contribution to your birth blowing up into smithereens?" His hands cups hers and they share a moment. "The Holocaust."

Katniss whips her hand away.

"You should get an award for Most Considerate Boyfriend, Peeta," Gale says.

** There was nothing even to bury.**

"There was nothing to bury at the Holo - "

Gale claps his hand over Peeta's mouth to signal the end of his speaking. "Okay, Pete, I think your anti-joke has done its work."

** I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run. **

**Even though trespassing in the woods is illegal and**

"Wait, hold on - That's all we're going to get from that backstory?" Gale cuts in, snatching the book out of Katniss's reach. He frantically looks for the place she was interrupted at and once he finds it, he snorts then slams the cover down in a definitive thump. "That piece of out-of-place and irrelevant tidbit and then we're just going to jump back into the main plotline without even a proper transition or smooth link? I'm disappointed in you, Katniss."

Katniss hesitantly takes back the book while apologizing. "Sorry for my incompetent writing skills, Gale Sensei..."

** poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to venture out with just a knife.**

Peeta shrugs his shoulder and his lips press together into a thoughtful duck face. "I dunno, Katniss. I mean, from your descriptions I don't think _anyone_ would be bold enough to venture out, even with an AK-47."

Peeta pauses and contemplates this. "Okay, I think most people would be cool with the AK-47, but still."

** My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. My father could have made good money selling them, but if the officials found out he would have been publicly executed for inciting a rebellion.**

"It's funny because you start one a year later," Gale says, chuckling.

**Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to the few of us who hunt**

"Especially Mr. Deffison," Prim says, "because he really does have a blind eye."

Peeta slaps his knee as he starts to crack up. After a moment of him waiting for the others to join him, he stops and returns the strange looks his companions are giving him.

"Did no one else find it ironic that Mr. _Deff_-ison is _blind_?" Peeta murmurs.

** because they're as hungry for fresh meat as anybody is. In fact, they're among our best customers. But the idea that someone might be arming the Seam would never have been allowed. In the fall, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to harvest apples.**

"There are _apples?_" Gale exclaims. "I never knew that!"

"Now you do," Katniss mutters and continues to read.

** But always in sight of the Meadow. Always close enough to run back to the safety of District 12 if trouble arises. "District Twelve. Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter.**

"I'm sure of the other lower Districts can, too," Haymitch says.

"We specialize," Katniss explains proudly.

** Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you. When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt out about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol.**

"Ze Capitol!" Peeta slurs in a French accent.

"And how unnecessary that was, I won't even say," Gale says.

** Eventually I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.**

"Yes, like you have any," Haymitch says, stifling a laugh.

"You're one to talk," Katniss retorts.

**Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob, which is the black market where I make most of my money. Even at home, where I am less pleasant,**

"It's hard to imagine you even less pleasant than you are in public," Haymitch says, squinting at Katniss.

Katniss returns his glare in steady increments. "A lot of it has to do with you."

** I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?**

"I'm not a little kid, you know," Prim says indignantly. "I was 12 at that time! And that's practically an adult."

Katniss raises her eyebrows at this. "Last night you crawled into my bed and complained about how you heard sounds under yours."

"That is a different story." Prim says, biting her lip. "Matters of supernatural horrors under the sleeping compartments is frightening at _any_ age, Katniss."

Peeta nods his head in agreement.

** In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself. Gale.**

Gale flips his practically non existent hair in pride as he glances over at Peeta. He winks.

**I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening**

"Probably from my _manliness_," Gale whispers in Peeta's ear.

"Or the lack of such," Peeta mutters.

** as I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.**

"Not such a big surprise," Haymitch says.

** "Hey, Catnip," says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I'd said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me. I finally had to kill the lynx because he scared off game. I almost regretted it because he wasn't bad company. But I got a decent price for his pelt.**

"Thirty some dollars," Gale says. This is a lot of money, especially back at the Seam. A loaf from the baker's is 7 dollars each, the tough ones Kellen sell are 20 cents. Sugar and salt are 20 cents a pound, soap is 15. The price varies for everything as items shift in and out of, what they called, _luxes_. Luxury items at the time.

"I remember how much dear was if it wasn't carved at," Katniss ponders quietly. _Carving_ was known as picking off fresh kills that were lugged in by the hunters, or snatching a few spoons of grain here or there. Carvers were like ravens swooping in for the kill before the vultures got the left-overs. "Fifty."

Gale smiles fondly. "I bought Posy a _chatzke_," he says, pronouncing the word 'chotch-kee'. _Chatzkes_ were like dolls that could float for a minute or two if you said the trigger word. When the correct vibrations were sent to the sensitive wires, the magnets would activate and it would lift the doll a reasonable height. Schools liked to use _chatzkes_ to test vocabulary skill and to see just how many words the kid could say.

"Yeah, yeah, you love using Hob lingo that no one understands, get on with the book, already!" Haymitch says, pretending to understand.

** "Look what I shot," Gale holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh. It's real bakery bread, not the flat, dense loaves we make from our grain rations.**

"And not the like the ones Kellen Gray bakes," Katniss says, making a face.

"I threw a slice at a squirrel once," Gale says. "It died."

**I take it in my hands, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose, inhaling the fragrance that makes my mouth flood with saliva. Fine bread like this is for special occasions.**

"Or when we have a lucky hunting day," Katniss says. "7 dollars could be used to buy kerosene, oil, flour, slabs of good meat. I wouldn't waste it on good bread either way."

**"Mm, still warm," I say. He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for it. "What did it cost you?" **

**"Just a squirrel.**

"I took it down with Kellen's bread," Gale explains, hinting from his earlier comment.

**Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," says Gale. "Even wished me luck."**

** "Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I say, not even bothering to roll my eyes. "Prim left us a cheese."**

"That sentence doesn't even make any grammatical sense," Prim says. "A _slice_ of cheese, a _piece_ of cheese. Just _a cheese_ doesn't really make much sense, does it?"

"Your face doesn't make any grammatical sense," Katniss retorts.

Peeta raises an eyebrow and snorts in amused content. "Ouch. Someone better call 911 - we got a burn over here!"

**I pull it out. His expression brightens at the treat. **

**"Thank you, Prim. We'll have a real feast."**

"You're welcome," Prim whispers.

"S'nothing," Gale says. "After all, this was a while back."

** Suddenly he falls into a Capitol accent as he mimics Effie Trinket, the maniacally upbeat woman who arrives once a year to read out the names at the reaping.**

"A pretty accurate description," Prim says.

** "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" He plucks a few blackberries from the bushes around us. "And may the odds —" He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me. I catch it in my mouth and break the delicate skin with my teeth. The sweet tartness explodes across my tongue.**

** "— be ever in your favor!" I finish with equal verve. We have to joke about it because the alternative is to be scared out of your wits. Besides, the Capitol accent is so affected, almost anything sounds funny in it.**

"_Almost_ anything?" Haymitch spits. "_Everything_ sounds so damn ridiculous! That's why I can't ever hire any Capitolian maid - if they ever try to make small talk with me, I want to shoot them between the eyes with a ten-foot long chainsaw with an attached machine gun."

"No wonder you never got married," Prim says. "No woman in her right mind would."

** I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread. He could be my brother. Straight black hair, olive skin, we even have the same gray eyes. But we're not related, at least not closely.**

"The amount of faith you put in that statement worries me greatly," Peeta says. "What if he's your long-lost brother? Worse yet - your long-lost _twin_ brother?"

Katniss lays a comforting hand on Peeta's shoulder. "Assuming we're not in a soap opera, I'm pretty sure that isn't the case."

** Most of the families who work the mines resemble one another this way. That's why my mother and Prim, with their light hair and blue eyes, always look out of place. They are.**

"That was redundant," Gale says. "So redundant it hurts my soul."

** My mother's parents were part of the small merchant class that caters to officials, Peacekeepers, and the occasional Seam customer. They ran an apothecary shop in the nicer part of District 12. Since almost no one can afford doctors, apothecaries are our healers. My father got to know my mother because on his hunts he would sometimes collect medicinal herbs and sell them to her shop to be brewed into remedies. She must have really loved him to leave her home for the Seam.**

Prim scrunches up her brow and then whispers conspiratorially, "I heard that the real story is that Grandma didn't like Mom in love with Dad in the house so she chased them out into the Seam."

Gale swats the air as if trying to fan a bad smell away. "I heard that the real story is that your mom got pregnant when she was still living there and her mom died so she was so sad and ran away with your dad."

Peeta shakes his head. "I heard that the real story is that your mom heard that my dad was here and she wanted to see him so she went with your dad."

Haymitch looks at Katniss in deep condescension for the three other people. "Calling them stupid would be a huge understatement," he says.

** I try to remember that when all I can see is the woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, while her children turned to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgiving type. **

**Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each while I strip the bushes of their berries.**

"Hehehe," Prim giggles.

Katniss rolls her eyes and looks at Prim in exasperation. "What?"

"You said 'strip'," she giggles in response.

Katniss sighs and explains to her friends, "She's in that annoying adolescent stage where 'strip', 'boobs', and 'french kiss' seems to trigger her giggle button."

Prim frowns and crosses her arms. "I'm fifteen, Katniss. Give me some credit. I don't laugh at boobs. Or french kiss - except if and when Daniel Radcliffe says it."

Katniss shakes her head. "She's also going through a Harry Potter phase."

** We settle back in a nook in the rocks. From this place, we are invisible but have a clear view of the valley, which is teeming with summer life, greens to gather, roots to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight. The day is glorious, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food's wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries bursting in our mouths. Everything would be perfect if this really was a holiday, if all the day off meant was roaming the mountains with Gale, hunting for tonight's supper. But instead we have to be standing in the square at two o'clock waiting for the names to be called out.**

Prim strikes a thinker pose and asks, "Do we have any holidays?"

Peeta considers the question but is stumped. "Well, there's, uh...Um...There's gotta be _some_ holiday..."

"I mean, we don't really celebrate those traditional holidays like Christmas or Thanksgiving," Gale says.

Peeta agrees, "Or Easter or Saint Patricks Day or April Fools or -"

Katniss interrupts out of lack of patience. "Weekends are holidays. Now back to the story."

** "We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly. **

**"What?" I ask. **

**"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. I don't know how to respond.**

"Something socially acceptable would be 'yes' or 'no'," Prim suggests.

** The idea is so preposterous. "If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly. **

**They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well be. Gale's two little brothers and a sister. Prim.**

"You're four years older than me," Prim says.

"Legally and on paper, that is..." Katniss mumbles.

** And you may as well throw in our mothers, too, because how would they live without us? Who would fill those mouths that are always asking for more? With both of us hunting daily, there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling. **

**"I never want to have kids," I say. **

**"I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale. **

**"But you do," I say, irritated. **

**"Forget it," he snaps back. The conversation feels all wrong. Leave? How could I leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain I love? **

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Peeta says sarcastically.

"This was before I met you," Katniss says quickly.

Gale pouts. "Not before me, though."

**And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so why bother talking about it? And even if we did . . . even if we did . . . where did this stuff about having kids come from?**

"You get flustered so easily," Peeta teases. "It's kind of pretty much almost too much actually just super adorable."

** There's never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man.**

"See?" Gale says. "_Manly_."

Peeta wags her fingers. "No, no, no, she said that you _looked_ like a man. That doesn't necessarily mean you are manly."

Gale cocks his head and glares at him. "Shut up, Peeta. At least I look like a man."

** It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping each other out.**

** Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding a wife.**

"Okay, where did this stuff about finding a wife come from?" Gale asks.

** He's good-looking, he's strong enough to handle the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think.**

"Is it bad that that makes me just a smidge disappointed?" Gale says.

Peeta laughs from his belly. "_Manly_, but you still don't get the girl, do you?"

** Good hunting partners are hard to find. "What do you want to do?" I ask. We can hunt, fish, or gather.**

"Is this book interactive?" Prim exclaims, getting up to jump up and down. "Ohmygosh, I love those!"

Anticlimactically, Katniss says, "No."

**"Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight," he says. Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another year. But at least two families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come. We make out well. The predators ignore us on a day when easier, tastier prey abounds. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of strawberries.**

"How do you know it's a gallon," Haymitch butts in, "and not a pint? Or a quart? Or a teaspoon?"

"Five hundred some berries usually aren't a teaspoon," Katniss says.

"But how do you know there are five hundred? What if there are four hundred? Or three hundred? Or just three?" Haymitch presses on.

Gale answers this one. "There's a bit of a difference between three hundred and three, Haymitch. I think we can tell."

** I found the patch a few years ago, but Gale had the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep out the animals. **

**On the way home, we swing by the Hob,**

"Hob."

Katniss looks at Prim, briefly stopping her reading to inquire why Prim said that. Prim gives a goofy smile.

"Hob," she hiccups. "What a funny word - hob."

"Gumbo is funner - "

"_Notaword,_" Gale mutters.

"- to say," Peeta finishes, after being interrupted.

"Gumbo!" Prim giggles.

"Gumbo!" Peeta mimics.

"You two are _dum_-bos!" Haymitch says. "Let's get on with the story."

** the black market that operates in an abandoned warehouse that once held coal. When they came up with a more efficient system that transported the coal directly from the mines to the trains, the Hob gradually took over the space. Most businesses are closed by this time on reaping day, but the black market's still fairly busy. We easily trade six of the fish for good bread, the other two for salt. Greasy Sae, the bony old woman who sells bowls of hot soup from a large kettle, takes half the greens off our hands in exchange for a couple of chunks of paraffin. We might do a tad better elsewhere, but we make an effort to keep on good terms with Greasy Sae. She's the only one who can consistently be counted on to buy wild dog. We don't hunt them on purpose, but if you're attacked and you take out a dog or two, well, meat is meat. **

**"Once it's in the soup, I'll call it beef," Greasy Sae says with a wink.**

"That's nasty!" Prim exclaims. "Goodness gracious, is that what you bring back home for supper on Tuesdays?"

Katniss sheepishly scratches the back of her ear. "Well, not _all_ the time..."

** No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog,**

"Did I mention that was nasty?" Prim says, shuddering.

** but the Peacekeepers who come to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier. When we finish our business at the market, we go to the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawberries, knowing he has a particular fondness for them and can afford our price. The mayor's daughter, Madge, opens the door. She's in my year at school. Being the mayor's daughter, you'd expect her to be a snob, but she's all right.**

"Good enough to date you for a year," Katniss says to Gale, nudging him.

He laughs awkwardly. "Well, what can I say? She's attracted to my manliness?"

** She just keeps to herself. Like me. Since neither of us really has a group of friends, we seem to end up together a lot at school. Eating lunch, sitting next to each other at assemblies, partnering for sports activities. We rarely talk, which suits us both just fine. Today her drab school outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes. **

**"Pretty dress," says Gale. Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment or if he's just being ironic.**

"Why is that a gentleman cannot compliment a lady without being questioned?" Gale asks, throwing his hands on the table.

** It is a pretty dress, but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. She presses her lips together and then smiles. **

**"Well, if I end up going to the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Now it's Gale's turn to be confused. Does she mean it? Or is she messing with him? I'm guessing the second.**

"What is this confusion and awkward teenage sexual tension?" Haymitch says, his turn to throw his hands on the table. "When I was your age, I woulda just gone up to her and taken her to bed. And she would _like_ it."

"You're not exactly prime material for a role model," Gale says.

** "You won't be going to the Capitol," says Gale coolly. His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully crafted. It could keep a family in bread for months. "What can you have? Five entries? I had six when I was just twelve years old." **

"And enter bitter angst from stage left..." Haymitch says.

**"That's not her fault," I say. **

**"No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Gale. Madge's face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. **

**"Good luck, Katniss." **

**"You, too," I say, and the door closes.**

"And scene! The curtain comes down," Haymitch whispers dramatically.

**We walk toward the Seam in silence. I don't like that Gale took a dig at Madge,**

"'Took a dig'?" Prim laughs, sputtering spittle over her elder sister. "What are you - twelve?"

"I feed and clothe you," Katniss reminds her.

** but he's right, of course. The reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become eligible for the reaping the day you turn twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into the pool seven times. That's true for every citizen in all twelve districts in the entire country of Panem. But here's the catch.**

"Oh snapple juice, there's a catch!" Peeta says, snapping his fingers.

** Say you are poor and starving as we were. You can opt to add your name more times in exchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person. You may do this for each of your family members as well. So, at the age of twelve, I had my name entered four times. Once, because I had to, and three times for tesserae for grain and oil for myself, Prim, and my mother. In fact, every year I have needed to do this. And the entries are cumulative. So now, at the age of sixteen, my name will be in the reaping twenty times. Gale, who is eighteen and has been either helping or single-handedly feeding a family of five for seven years, will have his name in forty-two times.**

"It's like Catch-22, but..." Peeta stops to think. "...Catch-_42!_" He laughs at his own lame joke. Katniss pats him on the back, pursing her lips.

"Honey, you're not funny," she says to him quietly.

** You can see why someone like Madge, who has never been at risk of needing a tessera, can set him off. The chance of her name being drawn is very slim compared to those of us who live in the Seam. Not impossible, but slim.**

** And even though the rules were set up by the Capitol, not the districts, certainly not Madge's family, it's hard not to resent those who don't have to sign up for tesserae.**

"It's hard, but not impossible," Peeta says. "And not impossible, but slim!" He starts laughing again but stops when he receives a worried look from Katniss.

**Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I've listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. **

**"It's to the Capitol's advantage to have us divided among ourselves," he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine. If it wasn't reaping day. If a girl with a gold pin and no tesserae had not made what I'm sure she thought was a harmless comment. As we walk, I glance over at Gale's face, still smoldering underneath his stony expression. His rages seem pointless to me, although I never say so.**

Gale frowns.

"My rants make me a lot more emotionally stable than you, though, so there must be some point to it," Gale points out.

** It's not that I don't agree with him. I do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the middle of the woods? It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make things fair. It doesn't fill our stomachs. In fact, it scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though. Better he does it in the woods than in the district. Gale and I divide our spoils, leaving two fish, a couple of loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries, salt, paraffin, and a bit of money for each. **

**"See you in the square," I say. **

**"Wear something pretty," he says flatly. **

"Don't I always?" Katniss asks, gesturing to her outfit. It was quite extravagant, seeing as how she was going to a meeting with the Mayor when this all happened. Lilac gradient growing deeper and deeper as you looked down. A chiffon to keep it up and a low scoop neck to show off a well-endowed chest. It was simple, but it was beautiful. A flower was pinned in her hair.

"You're not only pretty, babe, you're beautiful," Peeta says, kissing her cheek. She smiles at him.

**At home, I find my mother and sister are ready to go. My mother wears a fine dress from her apothecary days. Prim is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse. It's a bit big on her, but my mother has made it stay with pins. Even so, she's having trouble keeping the blouse tucked in at the back. A tub of warm water waits for me. I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even wash my hair.**

"That's nasty that you don't wash your hair often," Haymitch says.

"At least I have hair to wash," Katniss says.

** To my surprise, my mother has laid out one of her own lovely dresses for me. A soft blue thing**

"What an appropriate referral," Prim says sarcastically.

** with matching shoes. **

**"Are you sure?" I ask. I'm trying to get past rejecting offers of help from her. For a while, I was so angry, I wouldn't allow her to do anything for me. And this is something special. Her clothes from her past are very precious to her. **

**"Of course. Let's put your hair up, too," she says. I let her towel-dry it**

"Yeah, I don't like blow dryers, either," Peeta says. He teases his well-mussed hair in a loving manner. "I let my baby dry naturally."

"I...I don't..." Katniss says, momentarily putting down the book to shake her head.

** and braid it up on my head. I can hardly recognize myself in the cracked mirror that leans against the wall. **

**"You look beautiful," says Prim in a hushed voice. **

"You know what makes you beautiful?" Peeta asks.

"Oh, this should be good," Katniss mumbles. She turns her head to face Peeta's and says, "What?"

"THE WAY THAT YOU FLIP YOUR HAIR GETS ME OVERWHELMED AND WHEN YOU SMILE AT THE GROUND IT AIN'T HARD TO TELLL - "

Katniss interrupts him, but pressing three fingers to his lips. "Alrighty then, let's keep going."

**"And nothing like myself," I say. I hug her, because I know these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping. She's about as safe as you can get, since she's only entered once. I wouldn't let her take out any tesserae.**

"That's a funny plural noun," Prim says.

"You know what's funny?" Gale asks. "That we call multiple goose 'geese' but not multiple moose 'meese'."

Peeta nods his head in agreement. He taps the table excitedly. "Or how octopus is 'octopi' and not 'octopuses'."

"Octo_pussies_," Haymitch sniggers and Katniss rolls her eyes.

** But she's worried about me. That the unthinkable might happen. I protect Prim in every way I can, but I'm powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she's in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. **

**"Tuck your tail in, little duck," I say, smoothing the blouse back in place. Prim giggles and gives me a small "Quack."**

"The good ol' days when you were actually cute," Katniss says, reminiscing for a moment. Prim gives her sister a good slap on the shoulder.

** "Quack yourself," I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me. "Come on, let's eat," I say and plant a quick kiss on the top of her head. **

**The fish and greens are already cooking in a stew, but that will be for supper. We decide to save the strawberries and bakery bread for this evening's meal, to make it special we say. Instead we drink milk from Prim's goat, Lady, and eat the rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has much appetite anyway. At one o'clock, we head for the square. Attendance is mandatory unless you are on death's door. This evening, officials will come around and check to see if this is the case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.**

"Put in prison," Peeta says.

"...That's - that's what imprisoned means, Peeta," Prim says.

** It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping in the square — one of the few places in District 12 that can be pleasant. **

"Where else would they hold it?" Haymitch asks. "The Hob?"

**The square's surrounded by shops, and on public market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging on the buildings, there's an air of grimness.**

"Like when the air tastes like stale air conditioning," Peeta explains.

** The camera crews, perched like buzzards on rooftops, only add to the effect. People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population as well. Twelve- through eighteen-year-olds are herded into roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young ones, like Prim, toward the back. Family members line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn.**

"It's like a prison set-up," Katniss says.

** Odds are given on their ages, whether they're Seam or merchant, if they will break down and weep.**

"They did that in Shawshank Redemption, didn't they?" Gale asks.

"'And it's fat-ass by a nose!' or something, right?" Haymitch says.

Prim's upper eyelid twitches. "I've been wanting to watch that movie since God-knows-when but Katniss still thinks I live in a world of barbie dolls and ponies. So I haven't."

"I can't have you watching something with so much language and prison violence," Katniss says.

"I'm fifteen!" Prim exclaim. "I can deal with homosexual attempts at rape!"

** Most refuse dealing with the racketeers but carefully, carefully. These same people tend to be informers, and who hasn't broken the law? I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting, but the appetites of those in charge protect me. Not everyone can claim the same. Anyway, Gale and I agree that if we have to choose between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker.**

"Except if they decide to whip or stone you to death," Haymitch says. "Or draw, hang and quarter you. Or boil you in oil. Or crucify you."

** The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive.**

Haymitch continues from earlier, "Or they could squeeze you to death."

** The square's quite large, but not enough to hold District 12's population of about eight thousand.**

"It swelled to about ten thousand in the baby boom, though," Gale says.

"That was about two centuries ago," Prim says, "and irrelevant to the story."

** Latecomers are directed to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event on screens as it's televised live by the state. I find myself standing in a clump of sixteens from the Seam. We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls,**

"You know, I know how to read crystal balls!" Prim pipes up, raising her hand like a child in school. "And palms. Plus, I can cold read, warm read, and hot read." She looks expectantly at the other people in the room, waiting for them to offer a hand for her to read.

** one for the**

"Did you just ignore me?" Prim asks.

** boys and one**

Prim scrunches up her nose and crosses her arms. "If you didn't want me to read anything, you coulda just said so."

"The only thing I want read is this book," Haymitch says.

** for the girls. I stare at the paper slips in the girls' ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting. Two of the three chairs fill with Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, who's a tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit.**

"Her teeth literally come from one of those toothpaste commercials," Peeta says. "Like, with her teeth, five out of five dentists would recommend that brand of toothpaste."

** They murmur to each other and then look with concern at the empty seat. Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to the podium and begins to read. It's the same story every year.**

** He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the Dark Days,**

"They were dark times, there is no denying," Haymitch rings out. "Our world had perhaps faced no greater threat than it did then. But I say this to our citizenry: We, ever your servants, will continue to defend your liberty and repel the forces that seek to take it from you! Your Capitol remains, strong."

"...No, I'm pretty sure that was from Harry Potter," Katniss says.

** the uprising of the districts against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games. The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty four tributes will be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena**

"Is it really outdoors?" Prim asks. "Since they can manipulate everything so meticulously...I've always wondered."

Haymitch answers this one quickly, "It used to be outdoors and a very carefully contained Arena, on an island that survived the flooding tides - something Hinaii or Hosaii or something - and they needed to set up and map every individual thing. But eventually, this process became much too tedious and complicated that they set up something indoors and easily manipulable. Almost like a technical reenactment, but staged with some fancy-pants operation I know nothing about."

** that could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland.**

** Over a period of several weeks,**

"Or however long," Haymitch says. "There was one Hunger Games which only took two days for the District 7 winner to completely eradicate all the other Tributes. I mean, he was a schizophrenic tracking survivalist. So he completely slaughtered everyone."

** the competitors must fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins. Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one another while we watch — this is the Capitol's way of reminding us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we would stand of surviving another rebellion.**

"Oh the irony..." Gale mumbles.

"Enough with the irony, Gale," Katniss says.

** Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. "Look how we take your children and sacrifice them and there's nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen." To make it humiliating as well as torturous, the Capitol requires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food.**

"Oh, so is that why it's called the Hunger Games?" Prim asks.

** All year, the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.**

** "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor. Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy four years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man,**

"I am not _paunchy_!" Haymitch exclaims, jumping up. He grips his beer belly in indignation. "Paunch is for ponchos. I ain't paunchy, sweetheart."

** who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He's drunk. Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he's confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.**

"_T__his_ is how you introduce me?" Haymitch scoffs, sitting back down. "_This_ is how you thank the one man that you got through that horrible bloodbath description...I'm just a paunchy, drunk, old man who's good-for-nothing and gives scary Crest commercial ladies hugs. Well, darling, I guess I better stagger along and give _you_ a big hug."

Haymitch gets up and overly exaggerates taking large steps and wobbling a little bit, almost like he was drunk. When he gets around, he picks up Katniss and completely squeezes her as his arms wrap across.

"Not bad for a paunchy, middle-aged man, eh, sweetie?" he asks, after he puts down the flailing girl. She whacks him upside the head and sits down. He goes back to his seat, a satisfied smirk on his face.

** The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket. Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket trots to the podium and gives her signature, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!"**

"It used to be 'Merry Hunger Games', for those of you that have either studied up on the history or are old enough to remember," Haymitch says. Blank looks from the kids in the room and he sighs, shaking his head. "Kids these days. History ain't even something they know the meaning of."

** Her pink hair must be a wig because her curls have shifted slightly off-center since her encounter with Haymitch.**

"I don't think she could afford plantations," Prim says. "Only them rich Upper District people get plantations."

"_Im_plantations," Peeta corrects. "Plantations are big ol' acres of land that drug lords have to enslave nearby Negroes or Latinos to grow pot or weed or coke or tobacco. _Im_plantations is those real hairs they stick in your scalp to make it more authentic."

**She goes on a bit about what an honor it is to be here, although everyone knows she's just aching to get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors,**

"And also so she can get plantations," Prim says.

"_Im_plantations," Peeta mutters.

"I know what I said," Prim says, snapping her fingers in a z-formation and flipping her head. "And I meant plantations."

** not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation.**

"I didn't _molest_ her," Haymitch says, scowling. "That would imply that I had touched her sexually. And I ain't never looked at that woman with even an _ounce_ of sexual attraction."

** Through the crowd, I spot Gale looking back at me with a ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment factor. But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And maybe he's thinking the same thing about me because his face darkens and he turns away.**

"I actually forgot to turn off the oven," Gale says. "I was baking a souffle."

**"But there are still thousands of slips," I wish I could whisper to him.**

** It's time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me. Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smooths the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it's not me. It's Primrose Everdeen.**

"Dun, dun, dunnnn!" Peeta belts in a deep voice.

"And that's the first chapter," Katniss concludes, closing up the book with a grin. "Can we go home now?"

A muffled reply comes from the door, "Nope. You have to finish the _entire_ book."

Katniss bites her lip in frustration. Gale pats her comfortingly on the shoulder.

"At least we're not reading the Bible or something," he says.

She opens the book again, letting the dust particles waft in the light a moment before she once again begins to read.

"**Chapter 2...**"

* * *

**And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed. Remember to review and wait patiently for the next chapter. Thank you!**


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